The Price of Freedom
by Ripper101
Summary: It's a little angsty around certain areas, but it gets better. This is set in England, postSeason Seven. Basically Buffy remakes contact with her estranged Watcher only to find an unexpected state of affairs.


Disclaimer: I don't own these characters.  
  
Author's note: There's no real pairing in this but there are Giles/ Ethan overtones. See what you make of it and let me know.  
  
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She stood there, just on the edge of the lawn, watching the lone figure in the middle. He stood still too, not seeing her, his hand slightly outstretched as if to feel the air around him.  
  
Giles tilted his head and listened. Something wasn't right in the garden today; something was swimming in the air- a consciousness that had never been there before. He shook himself and turned his attention to other things. The country air was pure and cool, something he still marveled, even two years on.  
  
Buffy couldn't believe she had traveled all the way from Los Angeles, casually and on a case, to this. She had meant to surprise him, but turning up at his address had meant a stranger's face and stammering embarrassment. She'd had to put in a few calls to other contacts to get here.  
  
She knew if she were to go closer he'd look the same as last time. He'd be as tall as he always was and he'd smell much the same way he always smelt- of books and magic and that intrinsically male scent. She knew his face would still have those fine lines, perhaps deepened now with age. She knew his eyes were still green. But somehow, something was wrong. And she knew what it was- she was standing in front of him and he hadn't even noticed her yet.  
  
Giles half turned as Buffy shifted on the grass, head turning to hear that slight rustle again. His eyes unfocused and his hands half- reaching, he decided he didn't like it. He took a few steps backwards and then a smell hit him. It was a mix of vanilla and something extra-ordinarily familiar. His eyes widened.  
  
Buffy almost moved towards him as she watched the look of pure panic on her Watcher's face. She almost said something when he cried out, muffled by his hand clamping over his mouth.  
  
Almost as if he had heard, Ethan Rayne came running out. The mystic wrapped his arms around Giles, pulling the man's head to his neck and murmuring soothing words of comfort and endearment.  
  
"I saw her, Ethan," Giles gasped, "For one quick moment I saw her! And then I just couldn't."  
  
"Ssh, Rupert! It's all right. She'll come; you know that. It's just one phone call, Rupert. Hmmm? Do you want to make that call? She'll come, you know that," Ethan petted.  
  
Over Giles' still heaving shoulders Ethan Rayne's eyes met Buffy Summers'. And Buffy stilled at the look in them, at his wide mouth compressing with rage. Then his eyes slid back to the man in his arms.  
  
"No calls, Ethan," Giles sighed, allowing the little nuzzling kisses that the other man feathered over his face.  
  
"All right, no calls. But Rupert, you can't expect Buffy to know if you don't tell her," Ethan pointed out. "But that's your choice. Now, what are you standing in the middle of the lawn for? Do you want to become target practice for an over-fed pigeon?"  
  
The Watcher managed a small chuckle as Ethan put a handkerchief into his hand and waited for him to finish wiping his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. Did I disturb anything too important?" Giles asked timidly.  
  
"No, only a pie, which is no doubt burning as we speak. But I've decided that it's too bland for tonight and I think I'll conjure up some Chinese. What do you think?"  
  
"Depends on whether it's the person or the food," Giles quipped dryly.  
  
Ethan grinned teasingly. "But Ripper, darling, the Chinese have such good hands!"  
  
Giles smiled and nodded. Then he slumped again. "It was worse this time, you know. I smelt her and it was so strong, so real. But why would she come? I haven't told her and quite honestly, I wouldn't know how."  
  
Buffy choked back a small sob. The lady she'd spoken to had been emphatic, only Buffy hadn't believed it. Now here was proof and she was forced to believe it- Giles was blind. And had been so for long enough to settle into the habit of being dependant on Ethan Rayne. More importantly, he wanted her but was too proud to call and say so.  
  
Ethan caught her eye and this time he was desperate. His eyes pleaded with her to do something. he seemed to say.  
  
Buffy stumbled forward. She stood two feet away from him. She was close enough that if he stood up, he would be able to step right into her. His eyes crinkled slightly, as if sensing her, but they remained unfocused somewhere in the direction of her stomach. She stepped back and rubbed her palms on her pants. And the words came.  
  
"Hi, Giles," she said.  
  
He jerked, throwing his head like a startled stallion. "Ethan, I'm starting to hear voices, now, too," Giles laughed humorlessly, his own voice catching.  
  
"That's no phantom, Rupert," Ethan said quietly, holding Giles' hand in both of his, "That's Buffy. She's here right now and she's standing about three steps in front of you."  
  
Giles stretched out his free hand slowly as his mind processed that thought. "Buffy, you'll have to say something if you're really and truly here."  
  
"Oh, I'm here all right," Buffy laughed, grasping his hand in hers. She stepped forward and let those hands roam over her, stroking her hair and tracing her features, outlining her form as if to find her very substance. "Giles, if your hands go further down my shirt, Angel's gonna get jealous," she teased.  
  
Immediately they pulled back as if burnt. She grabbed them and held them tightly, refusing his attempts to disentangle their fingers.  
  
"Buffy, what- what brings you down here?" Giles asked, clearing his throat, his face intent, as if straining to catch every sound from her.  
  
Ethan stood to the side, forgotten in this joyful Watcher-Slayer reunion. The invisible knife twisted in his gut at the look of pure contentment on Rupert's face. No matter what he'd done, he had never gotten that look.  
  
He made to go quietly but Giles turned immediately, spinning as if frantic. "Ethan, don't go!"  
  
"Someone has to stop the pie from burning down the house," Ethan coughed.  
  
But Giles stood up and reached out to him, his face pleading. And not for the world could Ethan Rayne refuse that look. He'd tried to, but Rupert Giles needing him tore his heart to shreds every time. He stepped forward and let Giles slide his hands down the long thin body.  
  
Giles for his part breathed a sigh of relief. Buffy brought sunlight to his darkened world; but Ethan was his anchor and even the loss of his physical presence meant a major catastrophe. He sat down, pulling Ethan onto his lap.  
  
Buffy gaped at this picture of domestic bliss. But the look of deep concern on Ethan's face as he twined his arm around Giles and snuggled into him was heartbreaking, especially answered by that happy sigh from her Watcher.  
  
She cleared her throat. "Giles, what happened? How- how did this happen?" she asked.  
  
"A run-in with a demon," he said simply. "A friend of mine asked for my help getting rid of a demon who was terrorizing him. I did the appropriate ritual but he struck out as he was dying and hit me in the head. When I came to, I couldn't see. It was jus one head trauma too many."  
  
"But wasn't there anything the doctors could do? Did you even go to a doctor?"  
  
"Of course he bloody did," Ethan said impatiently, sounding like Spike, "I forced him into going to every good doctor I could lay my hands on. But the tests were conclusive- permanent blindness."  
  
"But magic or something!"  
  
"I'm working on it," Ethan interrupted.  
  
His voice clearly told her to drop the topic. Giles' face had gone blank and his shoulders stiff. A quick rub at them eased the tension and snapped the ex-librarian out of whatever hell he was in.  
  
"Ethan, why don't we go inside," Giles said, "And, uh, maybe pizza instead of Chinese."  
  
"Why not? I'll go do the summoning and leave you two to follow," the mystic said cheerfully.  
  
Giles waited until the almost inaudible footfalls were gone before turning back to his Slayer.  
  
"He doesn't like discussing my blindness in front of me; he seems to think I get upset. Um, this is probably silly of me, but Buffy, if you could please just be at least civil to him. I won't ask you to act as friends but, well, he's been very good to me and I owe him a lot. I- I hope you understand."  
  
"Of course!" Buffy declared robustly, linking her arm in his and steering him to the house. "Ethan Rayne is God's gift to this earth if he's taken care of you like that. I here and now adopt him as a part of the Scooby family!"  
  
Giles laughed, glorying in the vitality of this small American woman. They entered the house laughing and joking and this time Ethan was included in the private circle.  
  
Night fell and they still sat in the warm library, the two men sipping brandy and listening to Buffy's tales from LA. Silence fell soon enough and Buffy found herself observing the unconscious give and take of the two men in front of her. She was dying to ask Giles about it, but didn't want to break the idyllic peace.  
  
Finally it was Giles who broke it, going to bed and insisting that she stay the night. "Ethan's already got the room ready and you can't insult him by refusing. We'll talk again tomorrow. Goodnight, Buffy."  
  
And Buffy had on impulse planted a kiss on his cheek as he went upstairs. The soft look on his face was worth everything else. She sat still staring out the window at the moon, tired and drained by the drive to be constantly positive in his presence.  
  
"Thank you," Ethan said softly. She jumped and turned to find the disciple of chaos behind her.  
  
"For what?" she choked, her heart racing.  
  
"For cheering him up, like that. I thought you would make it worse but this time I'm glad to be wrong."  
  
"Ethan, what's going on?" Buffy asked helplessly, gesturing around at the room and at him. "Why didn't you call me? I- I might have gotten here sooner."  
  
"Well, nothing prevents you from making a visit, you know," Ethan pointed out. "You haven't bothered to contact him either."  
  
"There were things," she muttered guiltily. Ethan fixed a knowing eye on her and she gave up. "I called, the last time. And then six months went with no word from him. I wrote him letters. But he never replied and a year went by. To tell the truth I was a little hurt and angry. But we've been busy and I'd forget. Now I know he never got those letters."  
  
Ethan shrugged. "Chance rules our lives," he sighed, "It's not your fault. This happened about two years ago. After six months of tests and running around to doctors, I brought him here, hoping some peace and quiet would ease the pain. Because it did hurt, you know. He takes such pride in his brain and now that he's blind he can't read. He went berserk for a while. There were days and nights I had to strap him down so that he couldn't harm himself."  
  
The look on the mystic's face was bleak. Buffy's breath caught in her throat. "Har- Harm himself? Like in suicide?" she gasped.  
  
"Like in suicide," he agreed.  
  
"Oh God! But he's better now, right? He won't do anything stupid now?" she begged.  
  
"Oh no! Not now! He's not generally a coward, just when he feels his life is over. He knows the truth, you see, about the shell that is human flesh. So when he gives up, he has no compunction about leaving the mortal world." Ethan's words were strangely eerie. "It was something we taught ourselves on the streets of London." The wide mouth twisted. "Something I taught him that I wish I never had."  
  
Buffy shook her head. The man in front of her was no cocky murderer; he was exhausted and drained and upset and looked about ready to curl into a fetal position and cry. "You care for him a lot," she blurted out.  
  
"That was never an issue," he said. Then he tilted his head as if listening for something. "Excuse me, he needs me."  
  
Ethan made for the staircase, every instinct concentrated on going to Giles, but the unexpected presence at his back forced him around. Buffy was still standing by the fire, woebegone and small, hands trembling slightly. And for all his jealousy he knew what Giles was to her.  
  
"Maybe you'd like to come with me? I don't think it's too intimate," he said loudly, rewarded by a bright smile of relief.  
  
"Great! If you're sure I won't disturb him or something." Ethan laughed and shook his head. "Come on."  
  
They walked up, almost companiably, to the bedroom where Giles slept. It was old fashioned and perfectly Giles-ian. Polished wood and quietly luxurious furnishings. She nodded approvingly at the sight. Then she saw Giles.  
  
Ethan immediately bent over him, wiping his brow as the man lay shaking in bed, clutching his head and moaning with pain. She ran to him, helping Ethan to hold him down as the Son of Chaos rummaged in the stand next to the bed.  
  
"Keep him still," Ethan rasped, letting go.  
  
"Shit," Giles gasped desperately, "Pills."  
  
Ethan pushed two pills into his mouth, pressing the glass against his lips and praying that he wouldn't choke himself. But the man swallowed convulsively, firecrackers exploding behind his eyelids. Buffy kept him still. Ethan stripped off his shirt and climbed into the bed next to him, cradling the aching head against his bare skin.  
  
"Ssh," he whispered, "It's all right! You'll be all right. It'll go, now, I promise."  
  
Buffy backed away, her fist between her teeth, biting down hard enough to bruise. She waited until Giles stopped rocking himself against the pain and relaxed. The Watcher listened and heard a breath that was obviously not Ethan's.  
  
"Buffy," he said, more as a statement, than as a question.  
  
He pulled himself off Ethan, feeling embarrassed to be seen like that, with his ear pressed to catch another man's heartbeat. He didn't think she'd understand that.  
  
"Giles, what just happened?" Buffy asked, frightened. "You were just. and the pain. How many times has this happened?"  
  
"It's an off shoot from the head injury," Giles explained, sitting up. He slipped his hand unconsciously into Ethan's and squeezed the trembling fingers. Ethan got scared every time. "It happens at least once every month. Usually it's not this bad, and generally I can treat myself on time. But this time I was asleep, so I didn't really get the warning signals."  
  
"And it just flattens you like that?" she asked in wonder.  
  
Ethan answered. "Sometimes it can. As Rupert told you, it's not usually this bad. Rupert, I'm going to go downstairs now. You and Buffy obviously have a lot to talk about. And knowing you and those tablets, you're going to be hyperactive all night. I'll leave you two alone."  
  
"No," Giles said simply, pulling the man back. "This is your room too. You go to sleep. Buffy needs to do the same. I'll go downstairs and- and read or something."  
  
Buffy was puzzling about that statement. Giles almost heard her unspoken thought. "I'm getting good at Braille," he assured her. "And Ethan's helped put some of my books on tape, so I'm not too badly off. You go to sleep now; I'll see you two in the morning."  
  
"Giles, I'm not really feeling sleepy. Would you might if I sat up with you? I'll read or something too. At any rate, your books usually put me to sleep anyway. I'll be quiet and not to disturb you."  
  
"Oh Buffy, you wouldn't be disturbing me at all," he said smiling softly. Ethan stiffened; Giles hated being interrupted in the middle of his reading. "I would be most glad to have someone to talk to."  
  
Buffy saw the look on Ethan's face, a bitter, self- mocking grimace that made her feel guilty. He was upset, she realized, and jealous. Suddenly she wanted to know.  
  
"Giles, what is going on between you and Ethan?" she asked abruptly, folding her arms.  
  
Both men stilled, Ethan's eyes narrowing. What game was the Slayer playing now? Was she going to make Rupert turn on him; couldn't she see past their little run-ins that he was only trying to help Rupert? Giles flushed, trying to think of ways to explain it.  
  
"It- it's complicated," Giles said, his hand tightening on Ethan's arm, whether to assure Ethan that he wasn't letting go or simply seeking support neither knew.  
  
"We have all night," Buffy reminded him. Then she softened. "I'm so sorry I haven't called for so long, Giles. I just want to know."  
  
"Why? It's been over two years, Buffy, two years since you called me. I put in a call to you but your machine picked it up. You never called back and I never heard anything from you. At first the connection was strong and I could feel you thinking, wondering. But then even that faded. Now, nothing! And you want to know what I'm doing with a self-styled murderer sleeping in my bed every night? Or just what I'm doing living with another man?"  
  
"Giles, it's not like that," Buffy pleaded, "Wait a minute, my machine never picked up any message from you. You were the one who never called back. I wrote you letters but you never answered them. And yes, I know you never got them. The lady said that you had moved with no forwarding address. I still have them with me in my bag."  
  
"I distinctly left a message," Giles growled. Ethan laid a hand on his thigh soothingly. "Oh fuck this, I don't need anyone to question me. Just go away and let me go back to my miserable existence."  
  
Both Ethan and Buffy flinched back; startled by the gravelly violence in that normally calm voice. Ethan's face hardened even as Giles realized what he'd said.  
  
"Oh fuck, Ethan, I'm sorry! I never meant that," Giles pleaded, "Please, luv, I never meant it! I was just angry."  
  
"It is miserable, Ripper," Ethan said, snuggling back obligingly into that long body next to him, "But then we're always listening to you talking about Buffy, aren't we? Or about that hellhole you call Sunnydale. Or the Watchers even, which, might I add, is not the most stimulating conversation."  
  
Giles flinched. "I apologize," he said meekly, "To both of you. I had no right to say that, and it isn't really true. I don't have a miserable life. It's been a little lacking, what with being unable to read. Ethan's made it bearable, and truly, luv, your patience is a veritable Godsend. Buffy, let's forget it, hmmm? It's obvious it was all a mistake."  
  
Both relaxed under the truly penitent tone, willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. "All right," Buffy said. She bravely pushed on ahead. "But as someone who cares for you very much, what exactly are you doing with Ethan Rayne?"  
  
"Being cared for," Giles said. "And caring back. It's complicated, as I said before. Ethan and I go way back. We were best friends for too long to forget it. Trying to kill each other was a rather convoluted way of saying, "You bastard, you betrayed me!" When all this happened, he stepped in to help, took me around, helped me get into a routine; helped me learn to live without light."  
  
"You were smart enough to handle that. All I ever did was be there," Ethan reminded him. "And let me tell you, Slayer, the first time I went to see him was to gloat. But he punched me anyway. Then I helped him get him to a doctor's appointment on time. I got in the habit of stopping by to help out. And many times he'd be drunk, drowning himself in bottles of scotch."  
  
"Giles, you didn't," Buffy sniffed, finding tears in her eyes. "You promised, you know! No more drinking."  
  
"Well, there was no one else to lash out at, to hurt," Giles said honestly, pulling Ethan closer and putting his arm around him, "Ethan slapped me, threw out my alcohol and left. It seemed to set a pattern. I was undergoing a barrage of tests from various specialists and I just couldn't take not knowing and hoping and not daring to think about getting better."  
  
"They fucked with his mind," Ethan burst out indignantly, "They kept telling him that the damage was just a temporary neurological scrambling. One quack actually said he'd get better if he got enough rest and just gave it time. And Rupert would, of course, believe him. Only after six months, one of them finally turned around and told him that it was permanent."  
  
"Those assholes," Buffy grated, earning a sharp look from Giles.  
  
"Don't you start swearing too," he warned, shaking his head in her direction.  
  
"Is that when you decided to come here?" she asked, sitting at the foot of the bed, looking at Ethan lean intimately into her Watcher, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. Giles nodded. "What about Ethan?" she asked, "When did you decide to move in?"  
  
"When Rupert told me, I was worried, naturally. He couldn't manage a house like this on his own. He told me he'd get one of the women from the village to come in. But it still wasn't safe. A Watcher on his own is easy target for vindictive demons, especially when he can't see. I had already had a change of heart, so I just moved in. We never bothered talking; it just was," Ethan explained.  
  
"Oh," Buffy said, a little at a loss for words. "What do you mean, 'a change of heart'?"  
  
"I was in love with him again," Ethan said, a challenge flaring in his eyes. Giles shifted uncomfortably, but didn't refute the point.  
  
"In- in love with Giles?" she squeaked, staring at he two of them as if her eyes would pop out with shock. "But Giles isn't! At least, I never thought he was. Giles, are you?"  
  
"If you mean, am I gay, then no I'm not," the Watcher said wryly, "I've had my share of experiences, but I don't think that's quite in my line. No, what he means is that we were back to the way we were. It is love, because it's more than friendship. You've seen us together and you're certainly seeing how close we are now. But we're not together sexually."  
  
"But he sleeps with you," Buffy said timidly.  
  
"I get nightmares. Angelous blindfolded me for a part of the torture, so blindness is very distressing. And it's easier taking care of one big room, than two. So we share. Besides, we both need comfort every now and then."  
  
The Watcher pressed a soft kiss to Ethan's temple. For some reason the Son of Chaos blushed happily. Buffy knew that look. Ethan knew she knew it. And his eyes begged her not to disillusion the man.  
  
"It makes sense," she agreed, nodding to Ethan reassuringly, "Thank you for telling me."  
  
"Well, you asked! We were only being polite," he snarked mockingly.  
  
"Hey! I was curious! And if you didn't want to tell me, you didn't have to, you know," she grumbled.  
  
Giles grinned. "Oh God, I can see that tomorrow is going to be extremely noisy, is it not? Maybe I should lock myself into the library."  
  
"And fall into the fireplace again?" Ethan teased.  
  
Buffy burst out laughing. "You fell into the fireplace?" she shrieked, rolling over on the bed. "How- how did you manage that?"  
  
Giles went pink. "Well, I just sort of slipped straight in! And it's big! So, I sort of banged against it and slipped and went in. It wasn't lit, thankfully!"  
  
"It was the summer we first moved in," Ethan told her grinning, "There was this loud bang and a squawk. I went to find Giles, thinking he may have hurt himself. I run into the library and there he is, crawling out of the fireplace, cursing at the top of his lungs. I almost choked to death trying not to laugh."  
  
"Oh god," Buffy groaned, still giggling as she clutched her aching stomach. "You f- fell into the fireplace!"  
  
"It's not that funny," Giles said coldly, his own lips twitching.  
  
It was almost sunrise when Buffy left, Ethan showing her to her room as Giles slept soundly.  
  
"You love him," she said softly, standing at the door.  
  
He turned around and raised his eyebrow. "Yes. I admitted as much."  
  
"No, I mean, you love him. Like, really love; the way he said it wasn't," Buffy said awkwardly. "It must be hard."  
  
"Harder than you will ever have to know. Rupert sees us as two halfs of the same, the good and the evil. But he can never see that both exist as one. So we live in self- enforced limbo, being together but well, as I said, never as one."  
  
"Why don't you say something?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I did. He ran away. That was twenty-five years ago. I take what I can, now. And what he gives me is the chance to look after him, support him- kiss it better, if you will. But that is enough on this subject. Never bring it up with me again," Ethan warned, for a moment reminding her of why he had been so sought after by those with evil purposes.  
  
She went inside and locked the door, wondering about the man who slumbered dreamlessly in the bed, used to the darkness that haunted him day and night. She thought of the man who constantly hurt himself by wanting what he could not have, that could not give itself to him. And she knew a little of how that felt; for a tortuous year she had lived through both those hells.  
  
Then she remembered listening to Willow drone on about a client, a complex spell to restore lost capabilities. She pulled out her mobile.  
  
"Willow Rosenberg," a chirpy voice answered.  
  
"Hey Will, it's me," Buffy said. She took a deep breath, "Listen, I need some help helping an old friend of ours. Think you could come down?" 


End file.
